Realizations
by AmethystDragons
Summary: AU Sindria with elements of Assassin's Creed. One night a master assassin bumps into a disguised king, and everything changes from there. Eventual SinJa.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter 1: Prologue

Author's Note:

_Time_: About a year or so before the timeline of _Magi_.

_Setting_: Alternate Sindria - although this Sindria is, in most ways, very similar to canon. The most obvious changes are:

_The Brotherhood_. This story contains loose elements of _Assassin's Creed_; Ja'far is introduced as a member of the Brotherhood, which has a post in Sindria. The uniforms and the creed are pretty much the same as in the game, but the organization of the members and the way they operate is a bit different. The Templar will be mentioned later on.

_Ja'far_. As mentioned above, he's still an assassin, and never met Sinbad prior to this tale.

_Djinn equips_. There is fighting, but you won't see much of Sin's various Djinn equips... the reason for which may or not be explained in time. Magic, on the other hand, is pretty much the same as in canon.

_Other Magi characters._ The generals, and Sinbad, all have the same roles as in canon. However, one or two characters may show up with roles different than they had in _Magi._

May 18. 6:49 PM.

Ja'far was tired.

The past three days, he had been meticulously planning his next target. Any good assassin does his background research, and Ja'far was (naturally) the best of the best. Unfortunately, this target was both higher on the totem pole than most marks and had a admittedly impressive array of bodyguards. Well-coordinated, although that wasn't about to deter Ja'far. The Kou, according to the Brotherhood, were enemies. Enemies always had weaknesses. And Ja'far's first job was to find these fatal points.

Ja'far wasn't the kind of person who engaged in a lot of talk. He prowled, and listened, and had a knack for being in the right place in the right time when it came to information. That, and he always had a few contacts who were pretty knowledgeable when it came to this sort of thing. He didn't know why they were always so talkative, especially since few other people tended to talk to him much. Gossips? Maybe, but as far as he knew they didn't mention _him _to others. Ja'far didn't understand people sometimes.

However, jobs had to be done fast, and little time equals little sleep. The more status, the more complicated the job - but he finally had everything planned out. Ja'far stretched slightly as he watched the crowd from his post on top of the bell tower. Gaudy thing, but people rarely looked up at it. Apparently it had been a commission from the king for... some reason or another. Ja'far never found out, but to be honest, he didn't really care aside from the fact that it was useful. Whether people didn't look as to avoid the gaudiness, or because as long as it rung on time, everything was okay... well, it was a good place to people-watch.

Ja'far sighed and ran his fingertips over the grooves in his gauntlets. The sun had almost fallen, and it would be time to move soon. Right after sunset, there was a small window of time where the guards changed, and it would be a small matter for someone as slight as him to slip through to his mark's inner chambers... who, luckily, had a weakness for wine after a long day of negotiations.

The flapping of wings drew Ja'far's attention back to the streets. A few black feathers drifted lazily to ground as a pair of crows took to the sky, obviously chased off by the young children dashing toward the plaza. The crowds of the evening were clearing off as people returned home, and Ja'far could see the faint glow of candlelight and firelight beginning to shine from a few windows. The air was still and cool - perfect, to Ja'far, who was used to the shadows and quietness. Not that the weather mattered - when it came down to the wire, petty things like the weather would not stop Ja'far.

He lifted his hand to brush a strand of white hair away for his eyes. He'd been waiting here for over an hour, internally ticking down the time until he could move under the cover of the dark. Ja'far - if anything, he was patient. He'd trained himself not just to hide visually, but emotionally. And he'd had yet to meet the person who even made a dent in his mask.

Sometimes he wonders if he ever will meet such a person, but then he always pushes the thought from his mind. He's hardly the kind of person who would prompt interest from anyone.

The faintest rim of the sun hovered over the horizon, and Ja'far stood up silently. His blood sang, faintly, as the thrill preceding the hunt swept over Ja'far. Maybe it was all he had ever been and would ever be, but Ja'far was damn good at his job, and he was ready.

As daylight faded, the slight white-haired figure turned... and was gone, fading into the shadows like a ghost.


	2. Chapter 2: Chance Meetings

Chapter 2: Chance Meetings

May 18. 11:19 PM.

Sinbad hummed under his breath as he turned the corner. He was in a fine mood, really. And why shouldn't he be? He'd escaped from the palace (and paperwork) for once, the stars were out, and he had a full jug of wine at his side. He grinned to himself with a faint twist of his lips. Maybe it wasn't very kingly, sneaking out as he did from time to time, but Sinbad didn't care much for the regulations that confined him all the time. It was good, in his opinion, to be able to roam the streets of his city and see how the people were doing without an entourage. Plus, no nagging. What was there to complain about?

The air was still and cool tonight. Sinbad could hear his footsteps' faint scuffing in the dust as he headed down the alley which served as a shortcut to the nearest pub. It would be a nice night for fireworks, he thought. The kids would like them. Then he thought back on the afternoon's meetings and frowned. The current Kou negotiator... well, he wasn't as bad as some, but the man would probably complain about something that... festive. Stick-in-the-mud. This was Sin's kingdom, he could have fireworks if he wanted without needing a special occasion. But Kou negotiators were always nitpicky.

Sinbad frowned to himself. There seemed to be a high turnover of ambassadors from Kou recently. He wasn't entirely sure why - even his best men were unsure if something was happening, or if they were just rotating in and out according to some sort of plan. They tended to show up unannounced, but Sin wasn't so naive to think that was a good enough explanation. The latest rumors were of assassinations, but if that was true, Kou was hiding it very well, and no public affair had been made known... If there were assassinations, why would Kou hide it, and not accuse Sindria?

Sinbad sighed to himself and shook his head, earrings swaying. It was a problem, but man, this was a downer on his current mood. He escaped for a good time, not to mope. He uncorked the bottle by his side and was about to take a swig when the faint scuffing of feet reached his ears. Running, by the tempo. Startled, Sinbad lowered the jug and shifted to a more secure footing. His hand drifted towards the blade by his side...

... And a small figure hurled itself around the corner and ran straight into Sinbad. Sin, braced as he was, was still unprepared for the momentum of the other and staggered back a few steps, dropping the bottle and instinctively reaching to steady the thin body.

The other figure steadied himself surprisingly quickly for the speed in which he'd collided into Sinbad, stepping back with an almost catlike grace. Dark eyes looked up at him under a dark hood, surprise reflected in their depths. Their owner was wearing long robes of white trimmed with red, with worn laced gauntlets over his forearms. Uniform-like, in its efficiency, yet Sinbad was sure he'd never seen its like before.

Shouts echoed from the direction the figure had raced in, and the other twitched. Sin could almost feel the _thrum_ of a heart beating fiercely under the soft material in his hands. He could feel the hesitation of the other as the shouts came nearer.

Afterwards, Sinbad could never accurately explain his actions for what he did next.

Instinctively, he pulled the other with him back along the wall, into the shadow of the crates stacked haphazardly outside some shopkeeper's back door. "Shh," he murmured, as he felt the beginnings of resistance in the other's arms. Quickly as he could, he kicked and muscled aside crates until there was a thin gap between them and the wall and pushed the other into it, sandwiching himself into the opening afterwards. Sin was dressed in darker clothing, and he would be much less visible.

Both froze as the sound of feet grew closer. Sin found himself holding his breath, counting his heartbeats that were echoed faintly in the press of the back against his chest. People passed, not slowing down - soldiers, maybe - but they weren't shouting, which Sin found odd.

Minutes passed. Eventually, Sinbad let his breath escape in a _huff_ and moved to look out from their improvised hideout, looking up and down the alley. "Coast's clear," he announced, just in time to feel a foot planted against his back.

"Move," the voice - _male_, Sinbad's mind helpfully supplied - ordered as Sin stumbled forward a few feet. This seemed to be becoming a common occurrence tonight, and Sin wasn't even drunk yet. He turned and finally got a clearer look at the other man. He was short, he observed immediately. Really, the top of his head only just reached Sin's shoulders, and that shouldn't have been as cute as it was. Short, and thin, and was that white hair? Oh, and freckles - and he doesn't look happy, does he?

The man crossed his arms and frowned. Sin couldn't read his expression entirely, with that hood, but he was good enough at reading body language that he was pretty sure that the other was _ticked_, which was a little strange considering Sin was pretty sure that he'd just been helpful. "What were you doing?" Oh, and he had a very nice voice, no matter that he was growling, Sin was used to hearing annoyed people and that didn't bother him much.

"Being helpful?" Sinbad replied, trying to study the other subtlety. He wasn't sure how much he was succeeding. At least he was mildly sure the other didn't recognize him. He was disguised, after all.

"Why?"

Good question. "I'm not sure." Well, come on. He was an honest guy.

The man sighed and turned. "Whatever. Well, thank you, even though you're strange."

Oddly enough, Sin wasn't bothered by the insult, but he was that the other was leaving without another word. As the figure reached the end of the alley, Sin reached out - almost subconsciously - and called, "Hey, what's your name?"

The other hesitated - surprised, maybe? Sin waited with baited breath. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted - no, needed - to know the other's name. "Tell me, please?"

He only just heard his answer. "Ja'far."

And then that thin cloaked figure was gone into the night, and Sinbad was sure that something had changed.


	3. Chapter 3: Unexpected

Chapter 3: Unexpected

May 19. 1:03 AM.

Ja'far didn't like unexpected things. Understandable, considering his vocation - in his line of work, you had a plan, and you carried it out; you _wanted _things to go smoothly. Anything else would end up in you crashing and burning, and more often than not that was your end.

So, obviously, Ja'far was equal parts confused and _ticked._

Everything had gone according to plan, in the beginning. Target acquired, and he had gotten out with relative ease - and then he had the bad luck to walk right into the change in shift. Really, they weren't _following _the usual guard route, so they shouldn't have been there; but anyway, they gave chase.

Ja'far swung himself over the windowsill with a sigh. He was finally home, or at least in a safe place - a little one-room dwelling at the top of an apartment building to the north of the city. Close to where the Brotherhood headquarters were and without nosy neighbors. Usually his fellows stayed and slept within the headquarters, but Ja'far preferred solitude, and he was adept enough that the higher-ups accepted it without much question. It had a nice view, and wasn't too difficult for him to jump up to at the end of the day. Who needs doors, anyway?

He wasn't really too concerned that he had been seen. The Kou had to know who was behind the... recent string of unfortunate events, really, and they'd been rather quiet about it. No doubt they were probing, but Ja'far couldn't really say he cared much. What did concern him was the run-in he had while running away...

Ja'far huffed slightly as he lowered himself onto the mattress and began to undo the bindings on his uniform - which there were a _lot _because some stupid sap thought it'd be funny to give Ja'far a uniform that was too big, and he really didn't have the money or patience to get a new one, so he made do. And speaking of stupidity... his fingers slipped slightly as he worked on his boots. That person he ran into... no, he wasn't stupid. Ja'far didn't even have a word for whatever idiocy that man had shown... Ja'far's eyes narrowed. Who helps some random stranger who is obviously part of some danger? Although he didn't seem totally unused to fighting. Ja'far had noticed the sword by his side, and had (unavoidably) noticed how muscular the other was when he had been pinned into a hiding place by him..

And the guy wasn't even able to give him a good answer as to why he'd helped.

"And you gave him your name? Idiot." Ja'far mumbled as he removed his hood. He wasn't sure if he was referring to himself or that man.

And even more annoying, more than Ja'far had given his name (which could lead to people trying to identify him, which would earn a tongue-lashing from the higher-ups, which was more bothersome than Ja'far had the patience to deal with), was that he really had no idea who the other was. From his dress and accent, Ja'far was pretty sure that he had to be from the city, but really... he had the faintest feeling that he _should_ know who it was, and that bothered him more. He snorted. _Calm down. It's not like you met one of the generals from the palace. Probably just a local fisherman or something._

Ja'far slumped back onto his pallet, feeling his muscles ache. He was exhausted. _Maybe in the morning I'll remember why that idiot seemed so familiar..._

And he drifted off, for once without nightmares, but with the faintest thread of gold eyes hovering at the edge of his consciousness.


	4. Chapter 4: An Interesting Person

Chapter 4: An Interesting Person

May 19. 9:47 AM.

Sinbad opened his eyes slowly, savoring the slow rustle of breeze that swirled past his skin. _I think I was dreaming..._ He didn't remember about what, though. Just... that it was a nice dream. He stretched leisurely, enjoying the extra room. He was alone, for once, and every now and then he enjoyed waking up like this. He rolled onto his side and gazed out the window. The sky was a piercing, beautiful aqua, saturated with sunlight. _I am the ruler of a beautiful country._

He splayed a hand against the white fabric of his sheets, watching it bunch under his fingers. _White... like the color of that man's uniform_. Sinbad admittedly didn't always have a taste for design (he had been politely ushered out of a good many meetings for the designs of important buildings and whatnot), but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate a good one and he saw it. And that uniform was very well-made. Dusky white fabric trimmed and bound with red. Simple, with a clear design in mind. But, well... it was the wearer that completed the outfit.

Sinbad's eyes drifted closed as he remembered the details of the previous night. He still wasn't sure why he had acted like he had, but he definitely didn't regret it. That guy... Sinbad might play the fool sometimes, but he wasn't unobservant, and something about that person had grabbed his interest - never mind that he'd been running away from something, he just had _presence_. Slight, but with the gravity and agility of a person used to fighting. And white hair... Sin had only caught glimpses of it, but it stood out boldly in his memory. _Bet it was really soft too_... And he had freckles. And Sin... well, he thought that was cute.

The memory returned, and he let that name drift past his lips. "Ja'far." A strong name. And intriguing one. Exotic. One he liked, a lot.

And suddenly, he just wanted to _know._ What kind of person was he? What did he like? What was his job? Where was he from? Sin sat up, feeling a sudden energy coiling in his limbs. Not that he could just sprint out of the palace and go find him, but he was _curious._ And, well, Sin was a king, wasn't he? He had certain resources at hand, and he himself had both skill and luck. Sin frowned slightly. Ja'far... well, he had given his name, hadn't he? And trusted him, for a brief few minutes. That had to count for something, and... well, Sin's gut instinct was to seek more, and his instincts rarely failed him.

He had two things to go off of. A uniform, and a name. Something told Sin that this would be a challenge, but, well, he was a dungeon conqueror! Adventure was his middle name (not really, but that was a cool thought), and he thrived on challenges. He stood up and rolled his shoulders, striding to the window and placing his palms on the sill. The whole of his city stretched before him. Ja'far had to be out there, somewhere; something told Sin that he, too, knew the city well. But it was a new day, and Sin was feeling pretty lucky.

Then a voice - one of the new servants, from the sound - called from behind the door. Something about a speech...

Oh. Right. Sin was supposed to speak at the merchant's plaza today.

...But hey, he had to start somewhere. He was adept at slipping away; where better to start than with the merchants? They always had the metaphorical ear to the ground.

He grinned to himself and turned from the window. Today was going to be a good day.


	5. Chapter 5: Surprise Me

Chapter 5: Surprise Me

May 19th. 1:36 PM.

One thing to know, if you ever visit Sindria. It lies in a climate zone that is quite tropical, which leads to greenery year-round, good fishing, tourist attractions, and little need for bulky clothing. Also... most of the time, it's hot. And not _oh dear I must take off my sweater_ hot. More like _I am going to melt into a bubbling mess of goo and evaporate into the air and I'd go jump into the nearest body of water I had had the slightest chance._

And now? It was hot.

Ja'far didn't take well to the heat.

This was for many reasons, though. For one? This wasn't his native birthplace. Where he was born, the year tended to mold itself into seasons, and not a permanent warped form of either typhoons or muggy summer. And Ja'far hated humidity with a passion. He had to wear a uniform most of the time, darn it... although he liked his uniform's hood. The hood hid his face, which was good because Ja'far didn't tan, he burned. And its color reflected some of the sunlight. But it also didn't allow for much chance to escape sweat or feel any sort of breeze, and oh, this was why Ja'far _didn't _like having to be out and about during midday. Give him a building to lurk in or a perch to spy from or a midnight mission and he'd be just peachy, but now he had to be in the _sun_ and _move around_ and the people here were crazy because they were all going about their business like it wasn't five million degrees.

Ja'far crossed his arms from the wall he was slumped at, eying the shade under the nearest tarp of the vendor's table (jewelry from south of here, if he was correct) and decidedly _not_ pouting. At all. He hadn't told the superiors about his run-in last night, just that he had reached his mark, and the response he got was along the lines of _Okay, good, now go run along out in the heat and watch the merchant's plaza for anything suspicious and oh, the king is giving a speech there, so lay low and stay there 'til evening._ No explanation otherwise. He'd demand one later, maybe. Probably.

He pushed himself off of the wall, tugging the hem of his hood down with one hand to better shield his face as he moved along the stalls. Luckily, the style of dress was so varied in this part of the city that no one gave him a second glance. It helped that Ja'far was used to deflecting attention from himself. People pushed past him, gabbing excitedly and pointing at different stalls. _Hope the king turns up soon, it will probably clear out a little here after he's gone._ Ja'far didn't know a whole lot about the royalty - just the basics. Politics weren't really his concern, anyway, as long as the Brotherhood functioned without them noticing and kicking up a fit and the city continued to run smoothly. He was just contemplating jumping up on one of the awnings when he spied his target.

_Yes. _He shouldered his way past a couple of kids and an especially thickset man as he reached the corner of the stand and the wall. A red-haired merchant was rummaging under the counter, alternating between talking to the customer at the front of the stand and shouting back into the doorway where his partner must have been working. Ja'far bit back a smirk. Whoever was working back there was giving as good as he got, but with the air of people who have bickered good-naturedly for a long time. Something... reminiscent stirred in Ja'far's chest for a minute, but it was gone quickly. The merchant finally produced the change he was looking for and gave it to the woman, then stood scratching his neck for a moment. Then he noticed Ja'far and walked over, grinning. "Hello, sir, what can I get you?" His hands gestured as he spoke animatedly.

Ja'far shrugged with one shoulder, pulling out a small handful of coins. He wasn't rich, by any means, but he could get something like this every now and then. "Something simple." He tossed three coins at the one-eyed merchant, who caught them skillfully. "Surprise me."

A few minutes later found Ja'far wandering around the plaza again, albeit a little more happily. He licked at the blue popsicle he had purchased and tried to decide which lookout to choose while the king spoke. Not very professional, perhaps, but Ja'far didn't care and anyone who tried to tell him otherwise could take their opinion elsewhere. He stopped and looked up. Next to him was an awning, which was right below a windowsill. Ja'far guessed that since the plaza was so busy, the room would probably be empty - from where he could see, it looked to be a small storage room. With a glance around to be sure no one was watching, he jumped up on a few crates and vaulted up to the window, swinging himself inside. Perfect. It was empty, and as an added bonus it was nice and cool. He propped himself on the windowsill, placing his back against the frame. There was a good view of the plaza from here, yet it was off to the side and slanted so that few people could actually see him. People never looked up, anyway. He licked his lips thoughtfully as a group of soldiers formed a perimeter around the stage that was used either by speech-givers or performers. Looked like things were about to start.

He took his attention away from the plaza for a moment to rummage in the pouch attached to his hip. He pulled away the clasp, then pulled out a small circular object that opened up to reveal a small series of moving hands. He had received it as payment for his first solo mission years ago, and it was quite useful. Not to mention elegant. Part of him was loathe to carry it around as he did - since it was probably so valuable - but Ja'far's practical side was more content to use this little pocket watch.

A series of cheers from the plaza refocused Ja'far's attention. He tilted his head to the side as he slipped the watch back into his pouch, watching as a tall man jumped up onto the stage with ease. _Must be the king... from the way he carries himself, and how they all cheer._ That long purple hair must be a mess to take care of though. He moved with confidence, Ja'far noticed. That and the feeling that he could take care of himself in a fight. It seemed strangely familiar. Ja'far's sharp eyes studied the earrings glinting in the sunlight as the king waved to the cheering audience. _He seems... so familiar, somehow. But why?_

Then the man began to speak, and Ja'far's heart jumped to somewhere in his throat. _No.. it can't be. _But Ja'farwas trained to be observant, and have a good memory to boot, and there was no denying what he was seeing and hearing and how it lined up.

_The king... he's that guy. He's the one... who helped me last night._


	6. Chapter 6: Good Impressions

Chapter 6: Good Impressions

May 19th. 2:47 PM.

As king, Sin had a lot of stuff to do on a daily basis. Paperwork, conferences, paperwork, overseeing projects, paperwork, talking to ambassadors, more paperwork, and so forth. If he was honest, many of the jobs that he liked best were those where he was among the people. Sin wasn't someone who could stand by and be distant. He liked being able to move around the city and see things with his own eyes.

Thus, he didn't really mind giving speeches.

Sin ran a hand through his hair as he looked out over the crowd. A good turnout, really, and they seemed to have liked his speech - he had improved over the years, but he knew now that he was damn good at public speeches. He grinned to himself, feeling proud. _A wonderful city of wonderful people._ But then, that was the quality he wanted to see from a place he ruled.

He turned, intending to jump off the side of the stage when something registered in the corner of his eye. Most of the people were standing outside, in the plaza, and not inside, but in one of the far corners of the plaza, he saw... what looked like someone sitting on a windowsill, at an angle almost impossible to see unless you stood in a certain place. A person... with a hood, wearing white.

That had to be too much of a coincidence. It wasn't like wearing white was exclusive to a few select people. But Sin wasn't about to take chances. He leapt of the stage and landed lightly next to Masrur, who was surveying the crowd with his usual stoic expression. Sure, maybe Sin had other things to do but... hey, his generals were competent, they could handle things without him. "Hey, Masrur, could you handle things for me for a second? There's something I need to go do."

Masrur looked after him with what was probably an unimpressed expression (by his standards), but Sinbad just waved cheerily and ducked into the crowd, ignoring the guards calling his name and the few civilians that looked at him strangely. _I don't need guards, I think I'm capable of defending myself. _Besides, Sin was sure that if luck was on his side, it would be better if he didn't have an entourage following him.

He shouldered his way through the people, keeping his eye on the spot that had caught his attention earlier. People were beginning to filter out of the plaza, making it a little easier to navigate, but Sin was on a mission and speed was important in both luck and fighting.

He was a good distance away from the stand when he saw a figure leap lightly down from the navy-blue awning. Sin's heart skipped a beat. He was still a little too far away to tell, but that figure.. the uniform looked much like he remembered. The figure shook their head, one hand rising to adjust the hood covering their face. Then they looked around... and even with the distance between them, Sinbad could pinpoint the exact moment their eyes met. And the moment they did, surety washed over Sinbad like a sharp wave of shock and excitement.

The figure stood there frozen for a second, long enough for Sin to register shock and something else he couldn't quite identify in his eyes, before he turned sharply and began moving away - not quite a run, since that would be a sure attention-getter, but fast enough that Sin was grateful that he had long legs and had to step lively to keep him in sight.

This guy - he was clever, Sin noted. It took all of his concentration not to lose sight of him, the way he slipped through the crowd. If Sin hadn't had a clear idea of who he was following, it would have been impossible to match his path, despite the uniqueness of the uniform he was wearing. Finally, Sin saw the slight figure slip into a narrow alleyway, and jogged to keep up. He could almost _feel_ the temperature drop several degrees as he slipped through the narrow opening into the shady path. There were a lot of old boxes and crates littering the walkway, and Sin frowned as he moved deeper into the alleyway yet saw no sign of the other. _Did I lose him?_

Suddenly, Sin heard a sharp whistle from behind him. He turned...

And suddenly found himself flat on his back, pinned down with a blade held beneath his throat and Ja'far's very angry eyes staring at him. For a moment neither of them spoke. Then Sin, throwing caution to the wind, grinned and said, "Hello, again!"

_Annoyance_ flitted across Ja'far's face. "Shut up, idiot," he gritted, fingers tightening against Sin's arm. "Why were you following me?"

Oh. Right. Maybe that was a little weird.. but Sin figured honesty was the best policy here, right? "I wanted to talk to you."

"Why?"

There was an interesting question. "Because you're interesting." And cute, but Sin thought it might be better if he didn't say that part. Yet.

Ja'far was still looking at him like he was crazy. "Interesting? Interesting how? Because I was running from soldiers yesterday and you were curious?"

Sin found it slightly sad that Ja'far didn't think he was interesting. "No. I just thought you were.. unique. And I was curious, but not because soldiers were chasing you." That wasn't entirely true, because Sin _was_ curious about that, but he doubted Ja'far would answer that.

Ja'far stared at Sin for a moment longer, then sat up, releasing the blade beneath Sin's head but not moving from where he was pinning Sin to the ground. "You're strange," he said as through commenting on the weather, while slipping the blade into his gauntlet.

"Maybe a little."

"And you... don' t seem much like a king."

Maybe Sinbad should've been offended by that, but really, he was just amused. "I'm different."

"Yes, you are," Ja'far muttered, but softly enough that Sin guessed he wasn't supposed to have heard it. So he pretended he hadn't. Then Ja'far sighed and stood up, rotating his shoulders before offering Sinbad his hand. Sin accepted it gladly and let Ja'far pull him up. He was stronger than he looked. Once he was on his feet, he didn't relinquish Ja'far's hand, causing the other to scowl at him. "Let go."

"I was serious. Can I talk to you?" He did let go, though. Good impressions are important.

"Why? I'm hardly the exciting person that a king would want to talk with." Ja'far crossed his thin arms, tilting his head at Sin, and oh, he had more freckles than Sin originally thought.

"You don't know that. And we've already established I'm a strange king."

"I do know that. People don't talk to me. And don't give yourself titles like that, live up to your position, idiot."

Sin found that he liked how snarky Ja'far was. "This person wants to talk to you. Please? Just once?" Sin looked at the other pleadingly. Ja'far looked like he was hesitating.

Then a series of heavy _thumps_ resounded around them, and they both jumped, spinning around so they were back to back. About a dozen dark-clothed figures were closing in on them.

"You know these people?" shouted Sin as he drew his sword, spinning it to secure his grip on the hilt. He felt Ja'far shake his head tensely against his back, shaking his blades into his hands.

Sin felt his heart jump to double-time, adrenaline flowing through his veins. He drew back his sword and shouted as the first of the figures reached them...


	7. Chapter 7: Targeted

Chapter 7: Targeted

May 19th. 3:49 PM.

Ja'far gasped as he leapt up the series of rungs and onto the nearest rooftop. He kept a hand pressed to the wound across his upper arm - shallow, but deep enough to be bothersome. Beside him, the king - _Sinbad,_ he reminded himself - kept pace with enough agility that Ja'far was impressed in spite of himself.

Sinbad looked back over his shoulder as they crouched together on the narrow space. "Doesn't look like we're being followed," he commented, eyebrows drawn together in a frown.

Ja'far nodded briefly in reply and crept forward to peer forward, watching for any movement. They had been attacked by fourteen men, dressed in attire Ja'far hadn't recognized. They were after the king, that much was certain - Ja'far was a nobody, and he'd never warrant that much attention. Still, it bothered him for several reasons. For one, few groups would be rash enough to attack in daylight - usually those kind of people waited for dusk and nighttime. And they'd been mildly decent fighters - not as good as Ja'far and Sinbad combined, but skilled enough to be irritating. Sinbad, it turned out, was as good a fighter as Ja'far had first guessed. But the timing of the attack bothered him too. Was this why the superiors had placed him in the plaza? Had those men been planning on attacking Sinbad in the plaza, only to have Sinbad make an unexpected detour?

Those men had obviously hadn't counted on much resistance - stealth fighters, indeed. Ja'far huffed slightly. He had already been _annoyed_, okay, so that was _wonderful_ timing, to confront an assassin like that. Cue the heavy sarcasm. Although Sinbad had done it, too, chasing after him... Ja'far debated this for a moment, then decided that no, the two were not in the same category. What had he heard about the king of Sindria... a 'first-class singularity,' something like that? Yeah, Ja'far wasn't even sure how to begin to categorize the idiot.

It had been over quickly. No more than five minutes, which made it a lousy fight in Ja'far's opinion. One guy had tagged him, big deal - those guys would have had to train a thousand years longer to do anything more serious. Not that Ja'far was arrogant, but he knew his own skills...

Though he'd like to watch Sinbad fight again. _There_ was someone who knew how to handle a blade - he would never give any compliments, but Ja'far was willing to yield a _bit_ of respect for that. Ja'far leapt lightly to the next rooftop and looked down at the roads below.

Sinbad moved next to Ja'far, looking down at the streets. "Where are you going to go?" Ja'far asked, looking sideways at him. If people were targeting him, it was best he got undercover as soon as possible - but he was also a king, and Ja'far didn't even want to _think_ about the trouble that would result if the king disappeared for a long stretch of time. He twitched internally at the idea.

Sinbad sighed quietly, moving his hand to rub his chin. "I'm not sure," he admitted, "But... I'm thinking it's best I didn't go back to the palace right away." At Ja'far's quirked eyebrow, he continued, "I'm pretty sure that if people are tracking me, the first place they'd expect me is back at the palace."

"Maybe. But there are more people to protect you there."

"I want to keep the number of lives endangered to a minimum." Sinbad frowned. "Especially if we have no idea who I'm being targeted by, their reason, their numbers, nothing - I'd be harder to find them if I'm within the city like this, I think. They probably weren't expecting that I'd have an accomplice. And I could always try to send a message back to the palace."

Ja'far snorted. "By we, you mean you and me? You only just met me, and you'd trust me enough to hide you?"

"Yeah, I would." The gravity in Sinbad's voice made Ja'far pause. "And you're certainly capable of moving around the city unnoticed and fighting - don't try to tell me otherwise, after what I just saw I won't believe you." Then he grinned, that overconfident smirk that annoyed Ja'far so. "And I didn't _just_ meet you, we've met before, remember?"

Ja'far looked away. "A chance meeting like that doesn't really count enough for that kind of trust," he murmured. Why was this guy so trusting?

"What, you don't believe in fate?"

"More like I don't think about that sort of thing. Do you?"

Sinbad shrugged. "I think things happen for a reason."

A reason, huh?

Ja'far looked over, meeting Sinbad's bright golden eyes for a moment, before dropping his gaze, feeling flustered for reasons he couldn't identify. Thankfully, Sinbad didn't comment.

Instead, he looked back over the city. Ja'far watched him from the corner of his eye. Then Sinbad turned and said, "Do you have a place in mind to hide?"

A place... Ja'far couldn't really take him to Headquarters. Logic instantly declared that to be a bad idea. None of his other hiding spots really qualified either, as they were meant for one person and weren't prepared as places to hide for potentially long periods of time. That left one place. Ja'far mentally grumped about this, but seeing as it looked like he'd already been pulled into this, then he had a duty to see things through.

"Come on, idiot." He prepared to begin moving again. "As a matter of fact, I do."


	8. Chapter 8: A Hiding Place

Chapter 8: A Hiding Place

May 19th. 4:03 PM.

Sinbad wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, but he was slightly out of breath by the time they both swung over the windowsill that Ja'far had led them too. _Damn, but he moves fast._ And this little jaunt throughout the city had confirmed two things: One, that Ja'far knew this city _very_ well, from how he used every little fissure and crevice to bound around, and two, that he was hot. Okay, maybe Sin was just being silly with that last one, but still.

He pushed his long hair out of his eyes as he looked around. The room they were in was little and poorly-lit, but bore the signs of having be habituated for a long time. There was a thin pallet on the floor in the corner with a dark grey sheet pulled haphazardly over it. Next to it was a little set of drawers, made of some sort of dark wood. A cupboard and countertop stood along the wall opposite of where they both sat. Otherwise, aside from the pile of books next to him, the room was mostly empty.

Sin tipped his head back as Ja'far stood up and pulled a thin curtain over the open window. "Is this... your home?" he inquired, watching Ja'far turn and stride toward the cupboards, pulling down his hood as he did so. This was the first time that Sinbad had seen him without the hood. His hair was so pale that it seemed to glow in the dim light.

"Yes... of a sort." Ja'far pulled two chipped ceramic mugs out of the cupboard and reached for the pitcher sitting next to him.

"It's... quaint." Sin wasn't really sure what else to say, as the only other thing to comment on was the lack of decoration. The other shrugged and brought him one of the mugs, before turning and striding over to kneel beside the bed. Sin studied him as he moved to sit on a corner of the pallet and sipped at the water he'd been brought. Ja'far seemed... less imposing like this. Softer.

Ja'far looked across at him, eyebrows drawing together a little as he noticed where Sinbad was sitting, but he said nothing aside from, "Were you hurt?"

"No, luckily." Sin frowned slightly as he watched Ja'far unroll a length of cloth. "... How bad is your arm?"

"Shallow. Nothing serious." Ja'far frowned at Sinbad. "Stop watching me. It's a little unnerving."

Sin dipped a shoulder in apology and turned to look at the pile of books in the adjacent corner. Curious, he padded over and picked up one of the battered titles. He opened the book and flipped through a few pages, eyes skimming over the fine print. _Huh. Didn't peg him as a fictional-story kind of person. _He turned, intending to ask Ja'far a question, but the thought died on his lips.

Ja'far had his back turned to him and was winding the bandage around his upper arm. He had shrugged out of the top half of his uniform, letting it slump around his waist. Underneath, he was clad in a loose black undershirt that emphasized how thin he was. Red wires were wrapped around his forearms, and Sin could also see the faint shift of muscles in his back as he moved. He hoped Ja'far didn't turn around, because he'd probably get a knife to the face for his staring, but he really couldn't help himself. It felt oddly... natural, to slump back against the wall and just drink in the presence of the other. Sin said earlier that he trusted Ja'far, and that was true, even though for the life of him he couldn't accurately explain why.

As Ja'far bent forward to replace the remainder of the bandages, Sin finally forced his eyes away as he stretched his arms above his head. He had to consider how to send a message to the palace.. although, that shouldn't be too difficult to do. And... he was tired. The adrenaline from the fight and the running had worn off, and Sin just wanted a nap. Sleep...

He considered the bed. Then he considered Ja'far. Then he looked at the bed again. Ja'far. Bed.

And he flopped face first onto the bed.

He could _feel_ the other's 'raised eyebrow' expression without even looking. "What are you doing, idiot?" The bed smelled nice. Like books. And a faint undertone of some other spice that Sin couldn't identify right away but was determined to figure out. He should... probably answer Ja'far.

"Sleepin'.

"No, you're not. Not if you're answering me. What are you, four? And get off my bed." Sinbad hummed and flopped onto his side, facing the other. This only served to annoy Ja'far further. "Act more like your position, idiot. You -"

"We're not going anywhere for a bit, right?" Sinbad yawned, interrupting him. "And replenishing energy is good. So that means a nap is good." Sinbad knew how to logic just fine, thanks. He patted the space next to him. "C'mon, Ja'far. Naps are good."

The look he received could have pierced steel. "No. It's still daytime, and I'm not sleeping next to you. Someone has to keep watch." He ignored Sin's outstretched hand. "Go to sleep if you want, then, idiot. Don't hug me. I don't do the hugging thing - _Sinbad_. You are not acting very kingly right now."

Sin "hmmed" in reply, rubbing his face against that strangely soft white hair and thinking that Ja'far could nag at him all he wanted because he liked the way Ja'far said his name. "You looked like you needed a hug." Ja'far was tense against him. Didn't he know how to respond to affection?

Ja'far turned his head, glowering at Sinbad. "No. I don't give hugs. Or receive them. Do you make a habit of hugging strangers?"

"You're not a stranger. And everyone needs hugs sometimes." True story. Sin felt Ja'far sigh and slowly relax against him.

"I'm... not going to win against you, am I," Sin heard Ja'far murmur. Sin grinned to himself triumphantly and pulled the other down with him.

"Nope. Goodnight, Ja'far."

He received and elbow to the face. "It's still the afternoon, idiot."

Sin chuckled. "Good afternoon, then. Sleep well."

He closed his eyes, and the last thing he heard was an almost inaudible, "... you, too."


	9. Chapter 9: That Warrants a Thank You

Chapter 9: That Warrants a Thank You

May 19th. 9:52 PM.

Ja'far opened his eyes slowly. He was oddly... comfortable, and warm... he raised a hand to rub his eyes sleepily. He... he had decided to stay awake, and keep watch... but he must've been lulled to sleep somehow. Suddenly, he became conscious of the arm slung across his side and the deep breathing against his chest, and everything from the day flooded back. Ja'far covered his face and sighed. This man... he seemed dead-set on breaking down every one of Ja'far's barriers, didn't he?

And even more, why wasn't Ja'far putting up more of a resistance? He never had let anyone get close to him before, so why now? And why was he so... comfortable about it?

He slipped out of Sinbad's grasp and stood up quietly, padding over to the window to peer outside through the thin curtain. They must've slept longer than he'd originally thought. Night had fallen, and the city was lit by pinpoints of soft light. A cool breeze caressed Ja'far's face as he directed his gaze upwards. The sky was cloudless, glowing with countless stars.

Ja'far traced the edge of the window with one bare hand as the redirected his gaze to the man still slumbering in the corner. He couldn't decide.. what he thought about this strange king who had barged unceremoniously into his life, whom he was now sheltering. He was loud, brash, immature, and enjoyed poking his nose into Ja'far's business a little too much... but a good fighter, strong, kind, and surprisingly thoughtful and insightful... Ja'far tilted his head as he continued studying the other. He annoyed him, and yet, Ja'far was... intrigued. His head told him getting attached was a bad idea - especially considering his vocation - but... he felt different, now. Strange. Like his heart was full with warmth, not filled with the usual emptiness... it was... like nothing Ja'far had ever felt before, but... oddly nice. Ja'far's eyes traced that deep purple hair, those muscular arms, watched the movement of his breathing, the light glinting off his earrings. The light filtering from the window from the moon and the city lights was just enough to illuminate the room in a soft pale glow. Then he closed his eyes, resting his forehead on the side of the window. _What's happening to me?_

He wasn't really concerned that they would be found - at least, not for a couple days. Ja'far was obscure enough - thanks to his ties to the Brotherhood and his own training - that only a select few people ever knew about his whereabouts. Furthermore, he was a high enough rank that he'd probably only get slightly reprimanded for going incommunicado for a few days... although if they had intended for him on getting mixed up in these affairs, he'd have _words._

"How long have you been awake?" a voice inquired from behind him, and Ja'far would be lying if he said he didn't startle noticeably. Some assassin he was. He whirled around to find Sin standing a few feet away, blinking sleepily. Ja'far was annoyed, and why did this guy have to be so tall? _How did he get so close without me hearing him?_

"... Only a little while," he admitted, being sure to give the other his best _don't ever sneak up on me again unless you want a foot in your face_ glare. Sinbad, for his part, seemed unperturbed as he moved forward to stand by Ja'far and look out the window too. Ja'far glowered a few seconds more, then turned to follow Sinbad's gaze.

"A beautiful sight, don't you think?" Ja'far glanced at the other's face, noting the soft look in the other's gold eyes. He shrugged noncommittally as he looked back. Truthfully, he never really thought about it. When he looked at the city, he usually was looking for factual information to be used later, not for sentimental values... but yes, there was something pleasant about how the glow emphasized the view. "... Thank you, by the way."

Ja'far threw a startled look at Sinbad. This guy just seemed to know how to throw Ja'far off balance, didn't he? "What for?"

Sinbad returned his glance, eyes filled with some emotion that Ja'far couldn't describe but made his heart flutter slightly. "You know. For helping back there, and hiding me."

"Did I have much of a choice?"

Sin tipped his head. "You didn't fight me. You fought _with _me. I could trust you in battle. That warrants trust, and a thank you."

Ja'far didn't understand this guy at all. He turned back to the window. The view from outside suddenly felt more fascinating than it had any right to be. "You don't have to thank me." Somehow, it felt as though Sinbad was smiling, but he wasn't going to look at the sentimental idiot. His cheeks felt warm. The tips of his ears were burning, and Ja'far had no idea why.

"I will anyway." Ja'far sensed Sinbad hesitate, then he turned from the window and moved around Ja'far to walk to the pile of books in the corner. For being so much bigger than Ja'far, he was surprisingly quiet and graceful. Ja'far closed his eyes, the lights from the city leaving faint starbursts of light, galaxies and constellations dancing and swirling across the dark backdrop of his eyelids. Almost imperceptibly, he felt the slightest brush of fingers across his bare shoulder, there one moment and gone the next. With any other person, Ja'far's first reaction would be to throw the nearest sharp object in their direction, but... now, all he could do was attempt to hold back the shiver that wanted to crawl down his back.

He opened his eyes as he felt Sinbad move past him, and turned to watch his back as he wondered why his heart was suddenly beating so quickly, as though he had just emerged from battle, and wondered why he suddenly didn't mind not being alone.


	10. Chapter 10: I Could Get Used to This

Chapter 10: I Could Get Used to This

May 19th. 10:07 PM.

Sinbad was surprised that he had been able to sneak up on Ja'far without him flipping out. He'd noticed how well-attuned Ja'far had seemed to be; he'd surprised Sin many more times because he seemed to be able to slip through any sort of radar of detection. Therefore, he'd almost jumped himself when Ja'far visibly startled as he asked him how long he'd been awake.

Sin had woken up the moment he had felt Ja'far shift next to him, to be honest. He felt it, but he had remained quiet, not wanting to startle the slim figure beside him... quietly wondering at how _natural _it felt to wake up like this. Sinbad had woken up in similar contexts before, but... never before had he felt so relaxed. The arm that he'd slung over Ja'far in his sleep was warm. He could faintly feel the gentle pulse of blood through the thin fabric that separated the two.

He'd kept his eyes closed as Ja'far stretched slowly and slipped away, resisting the urge to pull him back to the bed. _Maybe_ he'd be able to write it off as being subconscious, but... he doubted it, with how sharp Ja'far was. As the other had padded over to the window, though, Sin let his eyes drift open slightly, tracing his profile. Illuminated by the lights from the window, as he was, Ja'far looked... slightly fragile, but... feral and a little _otherworldly_. Like he, too, was spun from moonlight and mist and would fade if Sin touched him... yet there was something in the lines of how he carried himself that simultaneously whispered of danger. The uniform was still partly on, belted at the waist to hold up the upper half of the uniform that was now slung around his legs. Through a gap in the fabric, Sin could see that his feet were bare. The paleness of the white of his uniform and his hair seemed to intensify twofold, and the darkness of his undershirt seemed to drink in the light. The red wires around his wrists radiated danger, and the look on his face... something caused Sin to catch his breath. He looked calm, lonely, awed, curious... and suddenly Sin thought to himself, _Beautiful_. He'd only ever used that word to describe a select few things - usually maiden visitors to the palace, and his country, of course - but somehow... that term fit Ja'far, too.

Sin's heart suddenly skipped a beat as he realized Ja'far's gaze was no longer directed out the window, but at him. He slowly let his eyes drift lower, until he could only just make out Ja'far through his eyelashes. _Had he seen Sin looking at him?_ Moments passed, and Sin realized that Ja'far was _studying_ him. Tracing his features like Sin had been doing heartbeats previously. And the look on his face... thoughtful, but... slightly confused, and something else Sin couldn't identify. Then Ja'far had sighed and slumped back against the window frame, turning his attention out the window again. Sin felt a little letdown.

Moving softly as he could - not wanting to startle the other - he pushed himself up and slung his legs across the pallet, feet settling silently on the cool stone floor. He stood up and padded over, wondering if Ja'far was ignoring his presence or hadn't actually heard him. Ja'far's surprise.. well, surprised him too.

Now, Sin studied the slim figure beside him, smiling gently. _No reason to thank you, huh? _Ja'far was clearly unversed in interacting with other people for long periods of time, but.. it was somehow endearing. Ja'far was determinedly _not _going to look at him, from the expression on his face, so Sinbad turned, intending on checking out that interesting pile of books from before. As he pivoted around Ja'far, he cautiously - oh, so delicately - let his fingers trace the patch of bare skin on Ja'far's shoulder. His skin was soft and warm to the touch, and oh, he had freckles there too. Ja'far said nothing to acknowledge that he had felt it, and Sin didn't know why he felt slightly disappointed.

He knelt beside the pile of books again and looked over it. It wasn't a huge collection, by any means, but a varied enough collection that Sin was a little impressed. He gestured at the pile. "Are you a scholar?" he questioned lightly, hoping Ja'far wouldn't get annoyed at his probing.

The person in question snorted. Ja'far had moved to sit on the pallet, back against the wall. He'd lit a candle beside the bed, and held one of his knives in his hands, and Sin really didn't want to make him angry when he was holding sharp objects. He'd seen what Ja'far could do with those firsthand. "Hardly. I just like to read."

"Anything in particular?"

"Not really. Knowledge is useful, no matter what the form."

Sin's eyes picked out a certain title near the bottom of the pile. "Even fairy tales?" That was adorable.

Ja'far frowned. He was polishing the blade in his hands with short, efficient movements. "Is there a problem?"

Sin held back a chuckle. "No, not at all." He grabbed a book from the top of the pile and stood up. He liked to read, and he was betting that Ja'far had a good (albeit diverse) taste in reading material. He crossed the room and flopped on the mattress at Ja'far's feet, causing the other to tuck his feet under his body and scowl.

"You have the whole room, do you really have to be in my personal bubble, Sinbad?"

"Yes," Sin replied cheerfully as he flipped open the book. _The Flying Dutchman_ read the faded script. He started reading and immediately was pulled into the book. A crazed captain, a mute cabin boy, a dangerous voyage... Sin still sometimes missed those days traveling wherever the wind would take him, so the book pulled him in with little effort. _I should find this book for the palace library... and take Ja'far there too, I bet he'd like it._ It was pleasant, sitting and reading in a quiet companionship like this. He eyed Ja'far's castaway boots next to the drawers, then jumped as a toe prodded into his side.

He turned and quirked an eyebrow at the foot's owner. Ja'far had put his blade away and was sitting with a deadpan expression, as though his foot wasn't - oh, that _tickled_. "What are you doing?" Sin asked, struggling to keep his voice neutral.

Ja'far just looked at him. "Something wrong, Sinbad?" Oh, he was going to _get_ it if he kept this up.

"Do you want something?" Sin twitched involuntarily, trying to escape that prodding foot, and something like amusement flitted over Ja'far's face.

"Sinbad..." Ja'far began, and oh, Sin had finally gotten a slight smile out of him, and it was even nicer than he'd imagined, "Are you ticklish?"

"No," Sin managed as that foot found a sensitive spot, and he wasn't standing for this even if he'd probably get his hair cut off for his efforts or something. He twisted and grabbed Ja'far's foot, and Ja'far _yelped_ and the next thing he knew Sin was lying half off the bed and Ja'far was sprawled by his head.

"Idiot," Ja'far grumped, getting up and moving towards the head of the bed, but he wasn't fooling Sin - Sin could read people most of the time, and he was pretty sure Ja'far was amused.

"Mhm," he agreed, spinning himself around to dangle his feet off the pallet, cause Ja'far could call him whatever he liked. He ran a hand through his hair - and huffed as he felt his hand catch on a bunch of snags and tangles. _My hair is a mess..._ He yanked his hair tie out - with no little difficulty, he might add - and began trying to comb out the tangles with his hands, and it wasn't really working well - and then he _jumped_ as he felt a smaller hand over his.

"Sorry," Ja'far sounded hesitant, his hand drawing back, and Sin guessed he hadn't ever done something like that if he sounded so apologetic. "You... looked like you needed help.."

Sin felt his heart give a strange little thump in his chest, and tossed the hair tie behind him and sensed Ja'far catch it in surprise. "Help me?" he offered, glancing over his shoulder, and Ja'far was looking both unsure and startled, but as he turned his head back he felt Ja'far's slight hands move through his hair again, gently pulling at the snarls. He hummed and pulled his book back toward him from where it had landed by the wall, wanting to make Ja'far seem more at ease. He could sense that Ja'far hadn't done this before, but... man, it felt nice. Sinbad closed his eyes slowly. He... could get used to this, really.


	11. Chapter 11: In Our Favor

Chapter 11: In Our Favor

May 20th. 7:16 AM.

Ja'far suppressed a yawn as he focused on the fabric in his hands. The night had been spent napping and talking, but for once the activities of the two didn't overlap, so Ja'far was sitting beside the bed, steadily repairing the slash in his uniform's shoulder from the night before. It was a small tear, but Ja'far was anything but a procrastinator, and keeping his equipment in repair was high on his list of priorities.

He sewed the final stitch and finished, snipping away the excess thin thread. Then he put it down and examined his work. _It'll do._ After years of repairing his uniform and clothing, Ja'far was adept at this kind of thing, although he was by no means an expert. He raised his eyes to glance next to him. Sinbad was sprawled out on the bed, mouth slightly agape as he slept. One hand dangled off the side, centimeters above the floor. Ja'far shook his head slightly at the sight, then turned his attention to his other side. Sinbad's sheathed sword rested against the wall, and Ja'far set aside his sewing to pull it in front of him. He didn't like using swords - much preferring his throwing blades - but he still knew how to use one and how to maintain one. He pulled a thin cloth out from the thin set of drawers and began polishing the blade slowly, pausing every few minutes to look at the window, where sunlight was beginning to filter through the thin curtain.

Ja'far blinked several times, trying to shake off the beginnings of sleepiness that were beginning to overtake him. He was far too comfortable, sitting like this... then all traces of sleepiness vanished as he saw something fluttering at the window. In a flash - without conscious thought, born of years of reflexes - his knives were out, and he almost impaled the pigeon that fluttered in through the window and landed next to the mattress.

It tilted its head inquisitively at Ja'far, as if asking, _What are you doing with those sharp objects? _Ja'far stared for a moment, then let out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding. Around the pigeon's neck glinted a faint medallion that bore the royal crest, so... he shifted, still tense, to Sinbad's side and kicked the pallet. Sin woke up with a jump, limbs scrambling around for a moment until he sat up, alarmed. "Wha-" he began, seeing Ja'far's blades in his hands, then his gaze shot to the pigeon now staring at him. He relaxed immediately, which reassured Ja'far enough to lower his blades (but not enough to put them away). Sinbad grinned and crouched on the floor next to the bird, examining it. "It's okay, Ja'far. These are the messenger birds used only by the palace - and I don't think it's going to attack, so you can put those away."

"You're sure of that?" shot back Ja'far, as he stowed his blades away and tried to banish the image of Sinbad being attacked by an evil red-eyed pigeon. It humored him way more than it had any right to. Sinbad just nodded for once, preoccupied with the thin note that he had unraveled from the pigeon's leg. "How'd it find you?"

"They're trained - don't ask me how, I don't know - to follow energy traces or something like that. Only a few people know about them - my generals and a few other people," said Sinbad absently, eyes skimming over the message. His eyebrows furrowed. "Apparently a few other generals were attacked too..."

"What?" They must not have been hurt, or Sinbad would have been looking more anxious.

Sinbad frowned as he rolled up the message. "Well, they had no idea where I was - just that I was probably still alive and free, considering they sent one of these messengers," with a nod to the bird strutting around Ja'far's floor. "I'll send a message back... do you have any paper?"

Ja'far nodded silently and moved to draw the needed materials from the drawer, handing them to Sinbad, who immediately started writing. He hoped that someone wouldn't see the pigeon leaving the window, but as things were, Sinbad needed to alert the palace. He watched Sinbad re-tie the thin roll of paper to the bird's leg, walk to the window, and toss it outside.

Sinbad turned to him, yawning, and his deep purple hair shone in the light of the morning sun. Then he smiled at Ja'far, and Ja'far's worries seemed to slide away from him, and he could only blink up at the other.

"Things will turn out in our favor. Don't worry, Ja'far!" Sinbad grinned, with that irrepressibly cheerful smile, and Ja'far didn't know why, or how, but somehow he felt that Sinbad was completely correct.

And before he could help himself, he smiled back.


	12. Chapter 12: I Keep My Promises

Chapter 12: I Keep My Promises

May 20th. 8:01 AM.

To say that Sinbad was pleased with himself would be an understatement.

Sinbad was _ecstatic. _

Of course, in his opinion, he had every right to be overly pleased with himself. All his generals were okay, he had been able to send a message to the palace, and he had gotten Ja'far to _smile_. Not an amused smirk, or a faint upturn of lips - an actual smile. And it was a really nice smile too!

Sinbad grinned to himself. _Mission complete_. He considered doing a little victory dance, but no, that'd probably seem a little strange. Then his stomach gurgled, and man, he was _hungry._ He had to stop and think about the last time he had food... and that in itself was a sign that it was food time.

He looked over at Ja'far, who was sitting cross-legged by the drawers, skimming over a thin book with furrowed eyebrows. "Hey, do you have any food in here?" Ja'far looked up, a slightly faraway look in his eyes, before focusing on Sinbad.

"Yes... but if we might be stuck in here for a few days, then we'll have to ration it." He shut the book with one hand and sighed. "I take it you're hungry?" At Sin's puppy-dog-eyes look, he snorted and rose to his feet gracefully, setting the book on top of the drawers. Really, Ja'far had to be hungry too. "Wait for a moment and I'll get you something to eat."

Sin grinned and shot a thumbs-up to Ja'far (which was promptly ignored) before flopping back on the bed. He grimaced as his head came into contact with the corner of a book, and he supposed that'd teach him to leave stuff laying around in bed - which made him smirk to himself later without really knowing why. He reached a hand back behind his head and drew the book (and a few strands of trapped hair) in front of him. Sin flipped it open, looking for the page he had earmarked earlier. The book was old and battered enough that he thought he could probably get away with marking pages like that, although he still hoped Ja'far wouldn't notice. Though he probably would; he was pretty sharp. It was one of the many reasons Sinbad liked him.

He began to read again, pausing every few paragraphs to glance up at Ja'far's back. He was standing at the counter, rummaging through the cabinet. Sin wondered what he had to eat. His stomach growled in what he liked to think was a thoughtful tone.

Eventually, he got so immersed in his book that he completely missed Ja'far walking over to him with a plate. Ja'far got his attention in his usual original manner: he planted his foot on Sinbad's shoulder and pushed him over. Sin laughed at the unimpressed look on Ja'far's face as he pulled himself upright again and accepted the proffered plate. _Yum, sandwich... _Ja'far sat on the floor in front of him with a plate of his own.

The next few minutes were spent in comfortable silence. Hey, mealtime is important - if you're hungry, you don't waste time talking.

Sinbad finished and set his plate next to him. Ja'far had finished before him and had gotten up to return to the counter. He came back with two mugs of water, one of which he offered back to Sinbad. Sin accepted it gratefully. Then Ja'far leaned against the wall.

"So, what's your plan now?"

Sinbad looked back at him. He had a serious expression on. Sin frowned slightly. "Well, we can stay here a few more days. It should be safe a little while longer... and if worst comes to worst, we're capable enough to fight and make our way to the palace." He gulped the last of his water and set the mug on the plate next to him with a hand arched over the top. He met Ja'far's gaze steadily. "You have to be careful too, since they'll have probably assumed you're working with me. Whoever they are."

Ja'far looked out to the window with a pensive look on his face. "Maybe. But not many people know who I am." Sin wondered why, but he figured that it wasn't his place to ask, not now. Ja'far would diverge the information if he wanted to. "In any case, you're in much more danger than I am. You're a king - I'm a nobody. You're more important than I am. We may be safe here another day or so -"

Sinbad interrupted him. "You're not less important than I am." Titles meant little to him, anyway. A life was a life, and Ja'far - well, he was important to Sinbad.

Ja'far blinked, seeming a little surprised, before he continued. "Anyway. As I was saying, we'll have to move soon. Probably in no more than two day's time - whoever they are, I'm sure they're tracking us, and if that pigeon could find us they will too. There's one other place I could take you as a last resort - but a last resort only." He studied Sinbad for a moment.

"You'd come with me to the palace, right?" Sin asked.

"Why? I'd hardly be welcomed there - I'd probably be met with suspicion, at best."

"I'm the king - the others trust me, you know," Sin returned. "If I say you're helping me, then it's all good. And if trouble's targeting us both, I'd rather have you by my side."

"Touching," sighed Ja'far, rolling his shoulders. "But there's more to it than that. But fine. I'll accompany you there - I just might not stay there very long."

Sinbad got up and strode over to Ja'far. "Would I see you again?" he questioned quietly. Ja'far looked up at him, startled, but Sin felt like this was an important thing to say. He grabbed the other's hand, feeling how little it seemed in his own. Almost fragile. Ja'far looked - unsure, a little sad. Sin squeezed the other's hand. "Please?"

For a moment, Sin saw raw emotion flit across Ja'far's face - then he looked down, his hand tightening on Sinbad's. "Yes."

"Promise?"

Ja'far looked up again, to meet Sinbad's eyes. His voice was solemn, but his gaze was strong and steady. "I promise. And I keep my promises. Sinbad, king of Sindria - I vow that we would meet again. I do not know how, or when or where, but -" and his eyes pierced Sin's like rays of warm sunlight - "I vow, _we will meet again._"

Sinbad will admit, he wasn't really thinking after this point, but after Ja'far's words, pure joy swept though him. Without thinking, he threw his free arm around the other and pulled a visibly startled Ja'far into a hug. Ja'far yelped with surprise, but after a moment - oh, so carefully - he wormed his other arm free to cautiously, gently returning the hug. Ja'far was warm and so alive in his arms and Sinbad closed his eyes and rested his head on that soft white hair and he felt hope.

"I promise, too," he whispered to the quiet room, arms tightening around the slim figure in his arms. "Always." He felt Ja'far nod against his chest and pulled back slightly to smile at him. "It'll be wonderful."

And he knew, without needing to hear it - from the look in Ja'far's eyes - Ja'far felt the exact same way that Sinbad did.

And it was the best feeling in the world.


	13. Chapter 13: No Time

Chapter 13: No Time

May 22nd. 2:12 AM.

To be blunt, Ja'far was sure he was experiencing what was commonly known as cabin fever. Such a mild sounding term...

Really, he just wanted to kick down the door and go running down the streets.

Okay, having an unexpected roommate wasn't the worst thing to ever happen. He was nosy, but cheerful; was loud, but didn't bother Ja'far when he was doing stuff; was overly affectionate, but not at bad times... well, you get the idea. Even so, Ja'far wasn't... used to being close to someone for so long. Perhaps he'd be in close contact with the same people for a few hours at most at Headquarters, but otherwise... well, usually he was a loner. He didn't _do _the whole socializing thing, which was probably why hosting the _king of Sindria_ was such a shock... because Sinbad had the air of a person who was charismatic and outgoing and loved to be around others. They were polar opposites in that regard.

However... oddly enough, they got along without butting heads (most of the time). Strange, how easy it was to adjust to Sinbad's presence... Ja'far didn't know if that personality put him at ease, or what, but... well, it was actually... kind of nice at times. Nice when it was quiet and there was the warm lull of having someone nearby who wasn't judging you or pushing you, who just accepted you were there. Ja'far... he'd never experienced that before. And... well, he liked it.

Not that he'd ever admit it, of course.

Ja'far stood up to cross the room. Sinbad was sitting cross-legged on the floor by the cupboards, reading something with a thoughtful expression. Not wanting to disturb him, Ja'far padded quietly to the window to look outside. There were clouds, tonight, so only the torches and firelight from the houses illuminated the city, bathing it in a warm light. Ja'far tipped his head back, looking up at the sky. The cloud cover was thick enough that he couldn't even see where the moon would be. A flicker registered in the cover of his eye, like a banner fluttering in a quick breeze. Ja'far narrowed his eyes, scanning the area around the spot. Then he saw another flicker of motion. And another.

He took a single silent step to the right, moving out of the line of sight of the window. A cool tingle trailed down his spine, setting his senses to thrum with the beginnings of adrenaline. He was surprised, inwardly, at how calm his voice sounded. "Sinbad." He felt the aforementioned man's eyes on his back. "Ready to move?"

He listened to the faintest _thump_ as Sinbad set down his book, followed by the rustle of fabric as he approached. Ja'far pulled his hood over his head and knelt swiftly beside the bed to pull a black hooded cape from under it, tossing it behind him. "Is our time up?" He turned as Sin unfolded the garment, eyes sharp.

Ja'far nodded, once, and motioned for Sinbad to cover himself up with the cloak. It was too small, but it would help blend with the dark streets better than what he was wearing now. Ja'far was wearing white too, but he knew how to blend even so. Sinbad cast it over his shoulders and grabbed his sword, moving to the other side of the window. Ja'far placed his ear to the wall and listened, shaking one blade into his left hand. He heard the faintest murmur of voices and footsteps of a large group approaching.

"How long to the palace?" Sinbad mouthed, back to the wall.

Ja'far closed his eyes, mentally mapping a route to the palace. Too many men approaching, and they had to keep away from innocents. Follow the creed: protect the innocent. That was ingrained into him. But barely enough time. "Twenty... no. Fifteen minutes, at top speed." _If all goes well. _"I'll lead, you follow." Ja'far knew the quickest way, and being at point would mean he'd take first damage of any trouble. The men last time hadn't had long range weaponry. He didn't know if that was true this time.

Sinbad nodded. Ja'far felt his blood thrum in his ears. He held up a hand. _Five._

Sinbad unsheathed his sword, quietly, the blade flashing. _Four._

_ Three._

_ Two._

Their eyes met. Gold into dark. And time, for a heartbeat, stood still.

_One._

Ja'far spun on his heel and jumped, bounding out the window. He knew without looking, Sinbad was just behind him. He heard exclamations of surprise and flung his knife at the nearest dark mass, which resolved into a figure that howled as he was hit. Ja'far's feet hit the roof tiles and he yanked on the red cord, knife returning to his hand. He shook his other blade out just in time to intercept a spear jabbed at his head. Sinbad landed behind him, sword gleaming as its owner plowed aside a few more attackers. No time to think. Ja'far pivoted around Sinbad, blades blurring as Sinbad's sword cut an arc over his head. Don't think. Ja'far sprung to the rooftop edge and leaped.

Ja'far would never be able to accurately recall the next few minutes, save for flashes of memory. Blades from the shadow. Breath burning they ran. Danger, danger. Sinbad's ponytail whipping about him like a deadly banner as he parried. Foes around every corner. No time, no time.

Finally, they made it to the final stretch. Ja'far could make out the lights from the palace. "Almost there," he breathed, turning to look at Sin. Gold eyes gleaming back at him fiercely. And behind him, a figure. With a longbow.

Time freezes.

Don't think.

Move.

And the next thing Ja'far knows is _pain_, and then Sinbad's arms around him. He's saying something, but Ja'far's hearing is null for a moment, and all he can do is turn his head and stare at the arrow in his shoulder.

Then his senses return. He can live though this, he's dealt with worse. Ja'far focuses on Sinbad. He looks stricken. "You took that arrow for me." He murmurs, eyes dark with something Ja'far can't identify, but no time, no time, and their heads snap around in union as the figure raises the bow again, and -

- And he's cut down he a figure in a white uniform. Ja'far's breath catches in shock. His brothers are out here, slipping past like droplets in a raging rapid. One stops to look back. "Go," he shouts. Ja'far recognizes the voice. Why is a higher-up out? How... why?

Sinbad looks confused. He's seeing the uniforms, seeing how they fight - sneak up behind the enemy, fighting in a style unique to the Brotherhood - and undoubtedly filing away information that will dawn as a revelation later. But when the man yells, his eyes return to Ja'far. Ja'far reads a message in those gold eyes. _I'll protect you. I promise._ And next he knows, he's being scooped up and carried, cradled close in those strong arms. Sinbad's so warm. Part of Ja'far wants to struggle, run for himself, but his world is spinning and the wound is burning and it's not a fatal wound, at all, but Ja'far's immune to most poisons which means this arrow is tainted by something else. He fights to keep his eyes open and grabs the material of Sinbad's shirt in his hand. Sinbad's moving with the unstoppable force of a hurricane, and he's reciting in a litany, a mantra, _It's okay we're almost there we're going to be okay_ and Ja'far's heart is beating in unison with the one under his fingertips and Sinbad's running through the gates and guards are yelling and Sinbad is shouting orders and they're moving though the palace and things are blurring together, but they're safe and Ja'far knows things are going to be okay and the last thing he remembers before he blacks out is the feel of Sin's lips against his forehead.


	14. Chapter 14: Things Happen For a Reason

Chapter 14: Things Happen For a Reason

May 22nd. 6:12 AM.

It doesn't take long for Ja'far to wake up again. A few hours, at most.

And Sinbad doesn't leave his side for a single minute.

The healer had been brief, bandaging Ja'far's shoulder as she informed Sinbad that the arrow had not hit any vital organs or arteries, so he'd be fine - there was some kind of magic imbued in the arrow that caused lethargy but it'd wear off as long as he got rest. After she left, Sinbad slumped on the couch next to the bed - he'd carried Ja'far all the way to his own chambers, panicking as he felt the slim body in his arms go limp - and allowed himself to breathe properly again. He glanced at the figure a foot away. Ja'far's face was peaceful for once, his hair splayed out around his face. He was tiny in that monstrosity of a bed. So strong... and yet now, at this moment, so fragile. Sin rested his arms on the side of the bed, letting his eyes drift shut, opening them every few minutes to check. The room was quiet.

His chest tightened as he remembered their flight. He was no stranger to fighting, but he was angry that he hadn't realized the archer was there. Those memories were now etched in cold clarity: Ja'far looking at him, then shock as he looked behind him - whirling around - the drum of footsteps as Ja'far's body collided with his, throwing him off balance - that ugly arrow, protruding from his shoulder... Sinbad shuddered. Had he not been pushed aside, that arrow would've been bad.

And those other men... Sinbad was beginning to have an uneasy feeling. The way they'd fought... he'd seen that style before, back when he was merely a traveler. And their uniforms... just like Ja'far's.

Then he forced the feeling away. He'd hear the whole story, first, before he made decisions about what to think.

So he dozed.

Finally, in the grey twilight before the sunrise, he felt Ja'far stir. He pushed himself up from his slumped position just in time to see Ja'far's eyes flutter, then open fully. He looked around in confusion, before his gaze settled on Sinbad.

"Sinbad...?" His voice was slightly hoarse, and he moved as though about to rise. "Where...?"

Sin reached out to place gentle pressure on his uninjured arm, preventing him from rising. "Shh. It's okay. We're in my chambers."

"In the palace."

"Yes." He felt Ja'far stop trying to get up, instead looking around the room in slight interest, drinking in the surroundings. Sin didn't move his hand, just watching quietly.

Eventually, Ja'far's gaze returned to Sin. He had a wry look on his face. "Well, this wasn't exactly how I planned on getting here. A nice little stroll through the city." Sin snorted. Such snark. But that was one of the many things he knew and loved about Ja'far.

He paused.

_... Oh._

He felt Ja'far watching him. He filed away that information for later, tipping his head back up. "Those men." Sinbad saw unease and resignation flit across Ja'far's face, and looked at where his hands were gripping the blankets. "Am I... allowed to ask?"

He sensed Ja'far sigh. "You're a king. If you want to know, then ask."

"I want to know as a friend, not a king."

"And if it's dangerous information?" Sin's head snapped up to stare at Ja'far (who was sitting up, despite being told not to), but no, he looked dead serious. He swallowed.

"Even so. If... it's stuff you can't easily tell, I won't tell anyone else. I promise."

"Don't make a promise you can't keep." Ja'far's soft voice chided. He looked away and frowned. "But... I wouldn't tell anyone else. But you deserve to know. So ask away. I'll tell you what I can."

Sinbad rubbed his hand over his wrist. "Who were those men?"

"The Brotherhood." Ja'far said the word as though it were capitalized. A word with gravity. Weight.

"The Brotherhood of..." Sin hesitated, unwilling to voice his suspicions. Ja'far gravely completed his words.

"Assassins." The air in the room seemed to grow colder.

"Assassins." Sinbad whispered to himself. Such a bitter word. Then louder, "The uniform. White with red trim... like yours."

Ja'far waited. His eyes were sad.

"... You're part of them."

"... Yes." Sinbad exhaled shakily.

"What.. is the Brotherhood's job?" Ja'far looked up, his gaze settling somewhere in the distance.

"We guard the city. Keep watch for the corrupted, those who prey on others. Protect the innocent." His eyes were dark and steely. He glanced at Sinbad. "How much do you want to know?"

Everything. Nothing. "As much as you can tell me. As much as you want to tell me."

So Ja'far spoke, in a quiet, measured tone. Spoke of the Brotherhood. Their rules, their creed. Don't hurt the innocent, don't get caught. The hierarchy. How they were split apart, how no one person had control, but it was split among a few. How they patrolled the city. He didn't speak of his personal jobs, for which Sinbad was glad, but he did talk of missions. How they worked. How they stayed hidden. Eventually he stopped, eyes still fixed in the middle distance.

"Did... you chose to be a part of them?" Sin finally asked. Ja'far's eyes flitted to his face, then away.

"No. They... look for likely young candidates, those with no family. Then they train them at Headquarters. I was the same."

"Was it part of your mission, that we met...?"

"No," Ja'far said, adamantly. "That..." He frowned. "Was coincidence. And the second time, I'll have you recall, you chased me. It was my own decision to aid you, nothing else."

Sin nodded heavily. The room was quiet.

"So. Do you want me.. to leave, now?" Sinbad jumped, looking at him. Ja'far wouldn't meet his eyes. "You know what I am now. A liability. You're a king. I-"

"Ja'far." Said person paused, looking at him warily. "Shut up." Shock. "I..." Sinbad paused, then stretched back, looking up at the ceiling. "I... don't know what to say about the Brotherhood. And... I don't necessarily like that you're an assassin. But..." He paused, trying to sort out his tangled thoughts. "You... didn't just cause hurt. You protected my people. And... an assassin... I can't believe that's all that you are. There's more to you than that. I've seen it. And you promised to come back. And... you helped me, protected me. You're not evil. You're my friend."

His gaze settled back on Ja'far. Ja'far looked... vulnerable. He drew his legs up, pressing his face into his knees. He began speaking softly, strained. "You... you're such a strange king." Sinbad watched, feeling some indefinable emotion radiating from Ja'far. "Strange. You're loud, obnoxious, nosy. You shouldn't give someone like me a second glance. And yet you say stuff like that... how do you do that?!" His voice sounded like he was about to break. "How does someone like you tear apart my mask so easily, see me without me putting up a fight? Why didn't I resist it? Why didn't I _want _to resist? Why...?" His voice cracked.

Sinbad moved, almost without thinking. He settled on the bed in front of Ja'far, raising his hand to push Ja'far's chin upward. A single tear dripped down his face. Sin brushed it away with his thumb. "Remember what I said?" he whispered, moving to rest his forehead against the trembling Ja'far's. "Things... they happen for a reason." He closed the distance between them.

And time stood still.

This... it wasn't a passionate kiss, at all. Nothing like that. It was... tentative, gentle. Asking a quiet question. Just a quiet touch of lips, nothing more. Ja'far's lips were slightly chapped. And warm.

It was the best kiss Sinbad ever experienced.

They parted slowly, eyes meeting. Ja'far looked... surprisingly less shell-shocked than expected. And beautiful. He licked his lips slightly. "You... kissed me."

Sin chuckled at this. "Yes. Obviously." Then he snorted as Ja'far whacked him on the shoulder.

"...You did earlier, too."

Oh. "You remember that?" He was still awake then? "Sneaky."

"Shut up." Ja'far looked down. He moved his hands so the tips of their fingers were touching.

"So, are you gonna stay?" Sin asked with a slight smile. Ja'far huffed.

"... For a little bit longer. But I still need to go back to Headquarters, find out why they were out there tonight. And maybe they'll know who the mysterious pursuers are."

"But you'll come back."

"Yes."

Sinbad let out a breath, then yawned. Now that things were settled, man, was he tired. "Move over." At Ja'far's deadpan look, he gestured with one hand. "This is my bed, if you hadn't noticed, and I'm tired. So scoot over."

"So dignified," Ja'far sighed, but he complied, letting Sin stretch out on the bed before laying down beside him. "But that's you. Sleep well."

"You, too."


End file.
